Surprising Sherlock
by GypsyGreen
Summary: Molly can't wait to surprise her husband. However, catching him off guard might prove to be a tad difficult seeing as he is the world's only consulting detective. She needs a plan, and a good one at that. Sherlolly One-shot


**A/N: The following is a byproduct of insomnia meets procrastination meets good ol' unrestrained fangirling. I hope it's not excessively awful. ENJOY! **

When she's one day late, Molly Hooper knows for a fact that she is with child. It's not intuition per se rather that she's one of the few select women who have been blessed with regular periods since their early teenage years and therefore this single inconsistency speaks volumes.

At first she is altogether surprised at the revelation. It's not like they'd been planning on getting pregnant. As it happens, they hadn't even fully discussed the prospect of children. But this confounding realization soon morphs into a feeling of pure happiness and she is simply overjoyed. She's always wanted a child, always desired a family of her own.

Molly's currently in the morgue by herself, knee deep in the deceased. But it's hard to concentrate now that she's unearthed this life-changing news. She can't wait to surprise her husband. However, catching him off guard might prove to be a tad difficult seeing as he _is_ the world's only consulting detective.

She needs a plan, and a good one at that.

* * *

By the time her shift at St. Bart's is finished, Molly has come to the conclusion that she requires an accomplice in order to perfect her surprise. She needs someone clever enough to help her pull the wool over Sherlock's eyes until she's ready to share her news. And who better to be in cahoots with than the lovely Mary Watson?

Molly pulls out her phone and sends a text to the man currently moping about 221B Baker Street, desperately itching for a case.

_Stopping by John and Mary's briefly. Be home in a few. - MH_

His response is swift and succinct.

_Why? What need have you to go there? - SH_

She rolls her eyes. He probably hasn't moved from his chair yet today, seated in the exact same position she'd last seen him in before she left for work, deft fingers still stroking his violin strings just so.

She knows it's taking all of his willpower not to shoot the wall out of sheer boredom. (She'd been quick to lay down the law as soon as they were married and living under the same roof, stating that there would be no gunfire in her home. He'd protested quite ardently at first but conceded after she had been particularly convincing.) She also knows that with his brain free of homicides and theft and other malicious criminal activity, it'll be that much harder for her to unexpectedly reveal her condition.

_Can't I visit our friends with no real purpose in mind? - MH_

His next text contains only one word.

_No. - SH_

She hails a cab and gives the driver John and Mary's address.

_Too late, I'm already on my way to their flat. Be a dear and start dinner, will you? xxx - MH_

She doesn't receive a reply.

* * *

"Have you taken a test yet?" are the first words Mary utters once Molly spills the news to her.

The two women are crammed in the Watson's small guest cupboard, and Mary is having trouble keeping her excitement at bay, her voice entirely too loud in the stillness of the flat.

"No," Molly whispers, "And hush, will you. I don't want John to overhear us." Mary nods in mock seriousness, and mimics zipping her mouth firmly shut. Molly lets out a giggle and shakes her head slowly at her friend's childlike behaviour.

"Better get on it, taking a test that is. We don't want to go through all this trouble for nothing, yeah?" Mary remarks, thankfully at a volume Molly deems acceptable.

"Yeah, but I can't purchase one, Mary. Sherlock will find out, I'm sure of it," Molly trails off, before an idea hits her, "Is there any way you could possibly…"

Apparently Mary is one step ahead of her, "Don't worry about it, dear. I've a few stashed away. Didn't want a repeat of the last time I found out I was pregnant."

Molly snickers, earning a pointed scowl from Mary. Only her husband would deduce a couple's pregnancy before they themselves knew, at their wedding, no less, and in front of most of their friends and family. It was surely a moment no one in their close-knit group of friends would ever forget, Mary in particular.

* * *

Molly's presently seated on the toilet waiting for her test results. Mary's left her for the time being to settle one Evie Watson who just woke up rather loudly from her nap. Molly wonders whether or not taking care of a crying infant is in her near future. It's not so hard to imagine.

The two minute timer she'd set goes off, shaking her out of her innermost thoughts. The wait is finally over. The time has come to see if her assumption has been correct. Molly reaches out for the pregnancy test stick, hands trembling from anticipation. She hadn't realized just how much she _actually_ wanted this until today. She takes a shuddering breath and summons the courage to look.

A huge smile floods Molly's face as she notes that the test is in fact positive. She's undoubtedly going to have Sherlock's child. Suddenly she's crying, but her tears are anything but sad.

She is going to be a mother.

* * *

"What are you two on about?" John's voice floats into the room seconds before he comes into full view.

The women have relocated to the kitchen, not wanting to look suspicious. However, it's clear John has, to some extent, noticed their soft murmurs, sniggers, tiptoeing and, most recently, squealing. All they've really managed to do since confirming Molly's pregnancy is make tea and propose preposterous ideas on how to break the news to the one and only Sherlock Holmes. They've just decided to test their lying abilities on an unsuspecting John when a bustling Belstaff-clad man comes barreling through the Watson's front door.

John's the first to recover from his friend's fervent entrance, "Christ, Sherlock. There's a thing called knocking, haven't you heard?"

"What in the bloody hell are you doing with my wife?" is Sherlock's response, his deep baritone reverberating throughout the room.

John cracks a grin, "Someone's a bit possessive today. No case, mate? Feeling a bit on edge, are we?"

Sherlock's eyes bore into John's, "I'm perfectly fine," he states in a clipped tone.

John snorts and looks between Molly and Mary, his animated face quite clearly screaming _can you believe this man?_

There's a fleeting period of uncomfortable silence before Mary finally breaks it, "Molly came over to see Evie, Sherlock."

Molly takes this as her cue to jump in, "Yes, right. Sherlock, you know she's been sick the past couple of days. I just wanted to check in on her, make sure she was doing better…"

Sherlock interrupts, "John's a goddamn doctor. The child will be fine…wait," Molly's heart rate accelerates as she notices her husband's piercing stare, the one he gets when he's about to deduce someone, "That's not why you've come, is it, Molly?" he asks too sweetly, folding his hands behind his back.

"Yes 'tis," Molly can feel her palms getting sweaty and her throat suddenly seems very dry.

"Don't lie to me, Molly. It doesn't work," Sherlock continues to gaze at her, his cold, blue eyes sweeping over her face.

"I'm not lying to you, Sherlock, honestly. What reason would I have to lie?" She does everything in her power not to give in under his scrutiny.

"I don't know, you tell me, Mrs. Holmes," he takes a few steps in her direction, until he's practically towering over her, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"I'm pregnant," Mary interjects, causing everyone in the room to swing their heads in her direction.

Molly's eyes widen a miniscule amount, but she manages to rein in her emotions in a timely manner. _Mary, you are bloody brilliant_, she thinks. As if reading her mind, Mary shoots Molly a wink as Sherlock spins to glance at John.

John, it seems, has turned green and looks about ready to faint, "You're... we're... but erm…I thought…you know…we were wait - ahem - waiting 'til Evie was… a…you know… a bit older…before…"

"I know what we said, darling, but apparently we're not the most brilliant pair when it comes to birth control," Mary bluntly states, causing John's cheeks to flush red with embarrassment.

"I…erm…" is the only response he can manage, and Molly tries to stifle a laugh. _The poor, poor man_, she thinks, _he never does seem to catch a break_.

"Cheer up, darling. Evie's going to have a baby brother or sister!" Mary remarks with convincing elation, reaching out to caress John's arm in a soothing gesture.

Sherlock's been silent throughout the whole exchange, but takes the latest lull in the conversation as an opportunity to voice one more thought, "Your declaration doesn't explain Molly's being here."

Molly feels her panic begin to rise to the surface once more, but forces it down so she can think of a way to justify her presence at the Watson's.

"I came over because, well, Mary needed my help…" Molly turns to John, "to erm…to surprise you, John. So erm…surprise," she finishes lamely.

"It's such a shame we've been caught, Molly. And to think we thought we had the upper hand for once. I don't know why we even bothered trying…" Molly gives Mary a sympathetic nod and tries to appear thoroughly crestfallen.

"Yes, well, I am actually _quite_ surprised," John still looks as if he might keel over, "So I don't think you need be disappointed."

Evidently Sherlock has bought their little performance, as he is quick to reach for Molly's hand and begins to insistently pull her towards the main entrance, "Well, now that that is settled, we should be on our way, Molly. Let the happy couple rejoice in private however they may wish to do so. Though knowing John, it will most likely involve nudity to a certain degree…"

"Sherlock!"everyone admonishes at once.

"Not good?" he asks innocently.

"Bit not good, mate," is John's tired reply before he does an about-face and quickly makes his way towards the living room where the sofa just so happens to be.

"On that note, goodnight. Come along, Molly," Sherlock hurriedly gathers her personal items, dumps them into her arms, and is strolling out of the door before Molly can even don her jacket.

"It seems as if you've dodged the bullet for now. Let's see how long you can outplay him, yeah? He needs a good beating every now and then wouldn't you say?" Mary whispers conspiratorially.

Molly smiles, and pulls Mary into a hug, "That he does. I'll try my best. Thanks for, well you know…your bluff. Good luck diffusing that one."

"Ah thanks, love. I think I'll be fine. I've killed people you know."

"Yes, I do know. And what a brilliant liar you are."

* * *

When Molly and Sherlock arrive home, Molly's first thought is food. It's long past the dinner hour, and she is absolutely starving. She heads directly to the kitchen looking to assuage her empty stomach. _And baby Holmes_, she happily thinks.

As she's opening the fridge (blessedly not full of body parts, as this was another house rule she imposed on Sherlock after their wedding), she feels large, warm hands on her hips tugging her backwards. As soon as she's engulfed by his body, his arms wrapped snugly round her waist, he nuzzles the top of her head, planting a kiss there as well.

Molly lets out a contented sigh and turns around until she's face to face with her husband. His hands slide up from her waist until they're softly cradling her head, thumbs sweeping tenderly across her cheekbones. He's staring at her with surprisingly gentle eyes, which sends shivers straight down her spine. He feels her quiver beneath his touch and grins, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers.

"Hullo," Molly murmurs.

"Hullo," he murmurs back, before pressing a soft kiss to first one cheek and then the other.

Molly knows that if he were to ask her anything right now, she wouldn't be able to lie to him. Yes, she's always been under his spell, but here, in such close proximity to him, she's utterly bewitched.

One of his hands finds its way into her hair as he leans in and closes the distance between their lips. Molly reciprocates instantly, her hands winding round his neck to play with his curls. Sherlock begins to back Molly towards the far side of the kitchen, never allowing his lips to leave hers. Once there, he lifts her up, effectively placing her on the countertop. He breaks away briefly to trail kisses from her lower jaw to her exposed collarbone. Molly hums appreciatively and wraps her legs around his body, drawing him closer. Sherlock groans at the contact, reclaiming her lips with renewed vigor.

When they both come up for air, Molly softly smiles, "And what did I do to warrant such generous attention?"

"I - I missed you," Sherlock replies, his eyes flitting to the floor. Expressing sentiment is still not his forte.

"I was only gone a couple hours longer than -" she stops midway, seeing the curiosity from earlier flood back into his eyes.

"Ah, yes, your unprecedented trip to the Watson's," he begins, "That reminds me, there was one thread I couldn't quite fit into the lovely little web you and Mary spun John and I."

"And what was that?" Molly chews anxiously on her lower lip and immediately regrets it. Sherlock will most definitely have noticed.

"Why would Mary need your help in surprising John? For almost two years she kept her true identity hidden from him and he never even…" Molly quickly covers his mouth with hers before he can finish his sentence.

At first he remains motionless, no doubt annoyed at not being able to complete his thought process, but eventually he can't help but reciprocate. She knows he's most likely cursing sentiment at this exact moment.

Snogging someone senseless generally seems to serve as a great form of distraction. However, when that someone is Sherlock Holmes, this tactic is not nearly as efficient. His brain doesn't turn off quite so easily as the rest of humankind's might, which is why he still attempts to make conversation between their heated kisses.

Eventually Molly mutters, "Hush. We are well past the talking portion of this program. It's time to stop thinking and simply enjoy the attentions of your ever so beautiful wife."

He pulls back and smirks at her, "Ever so beautiful wife?"

"You better believe it, you git," she playfully slaps his chest and laughs, before leaning in to kiss him softly.

"You're pregnant," he mumbles it against her lips, eyes still closed.

Molly is slow to admit defeat, even though she knows now that it's inevitable, "And how have you come to this ultimate conclusion?"

"I guessed," he responds, opening his eyes to meet hers.

"Ah, but you never guess," comes her quiet, almost resigned reply.

"I do sometimes," he confesses, though he knows this isn't really news to her.

"Hmmm," is all she can manage, her gaze now transfixed by the large freckle dotting one side of his neck.

"So, am I right, then? Are you, you know?" he presses her for an answer.

"Knocked up? Got a bun in the oven? Fully fertilized? Rearing a fetus?" she looks up and grins mischievously at him.

He simply rolls his eyes at her in return, "Don't make jokes Molly."

"Would you be happy if I were?" she asks, turning serious, her question clearly displaying her vulnerability.

He seems to ponder this for a good while before replying, "Yes. But I can't promise that I'd be the best of fathers."

She smiles tenderly at that, "You and I, we make a great team. I think we'd manage."

"So long as he doesn't have your ghastly sense of humor," Sherlock remarks, a smile playing on his lips.

"Who says it's a he?" she retorts, before realizing her error.

"So you _are _pregnant," Molly finally capitulates and nods shyly, prompting Sherlock to pull her into a tight embrace, "And am I correct in assuming that Mary is _not_ carrying John's second child?" he whispers in her ear.

"You are correct."

"Oh Mary Watson, she's a slippery one… you do know that as payment for your little ruse John's going to insist on naming him, right?"

"Why are you so sure it's a boy?" Molly asks again and pulls back to stare into Sherlock's eyes, which are glistening in the low light (though he'll deny that specific fact to the grave).

"Do you really want me to deduce that for you?"

"I'd like to see you try."

_fin_


End file.
